(084) The Churchcroft Cellar

The Churchcroft's cellar is cool and quiet, away from the bustle of the tap room and kitchen. The stair from the back room comes at one end of a 30-ish-ft long passage with an impressive array of barrels and cooperage stacked along all the length of the right-hand wall... it is near dark; the only illumination being the dim glow from the tap room, above.

The company assemble slowly in the cellar, muttering among themselves occasionally as they wait on the convenience of the proprietor... somehow, there seems to be an additional head count ..?

| Lemmi, your adventure starts... now. Please introduce yourself |

The dungeon entry will be revealed momentarily folks. Final setup:
1) M-Us please state your memorised spell.
2) Everyone please ensure that the statline in your sig is correct and states one or two items your PC intends to carry in his/her hands.
3) If you are carrying a light source please use the TL tags in your sig to illuminate it.
4) Please state an official marching order here.

Morin, one of the last to descend to the cellar, notices to his surprise a female present. "A wise woman is one who has much to say, but remains silent," he observes, looking the woman up and down with suspicion. In any case, he has little on his person to be pilfered, and in fact presses his last remaining silver coin into her hand. "And thus, there is no more left to steal!"

"Hi folks!" says a young woman perched on a barrel, who surely wasn't there a minute ago and certainly wasn't in the bar just now. She is dressed in dark leathers and a hood, which perhaps obscured her from view. Dark hair partially hides her dark eyes and frames a mischievous grin.

"Mi names my business buch'all can call me Lemmi.

She hops off the barrel and executes a mock curtsy for the gathered crowd, "I think it be in yur best interests ta let me join ya little tour o' the underdark. Or what I might say is - ill be joining ya little tour, or ya wont gets too far without someone hearin' about it."

She grins as if a clear consensus has been reached.

"Right!" she says, shouldering a small pack, "Shall we be off then?"

"And thank you Sir" she says, accepting the proffered coin from Morin and disappearing it into a pocket somewhere, "It seems we are off to a peachy beginning!"

"Fer misself, I never claimed to be wise...and id watch ya words about stealin' seen its your lot mustering to raid in the underdark" she adds with a wink once the coin is safely stowed.

After what seems an inordinately long wait, the proprietor finally sees fit to trudge down the cellar stair, pausing on the bottom step to hold up his oil-lamp that he might survey the 13-strong company assembled in his cellar for a moment.

"Right," he grunts, "Well, the lot of you should be enough to put the woollies up a half-dozen Snorks. You put the woollies up me!"

He pushes his way through the crowded cellar, his small yellow flame causing shadows to jaunt between shafts of light. Near the far end he reaches a large, horizontal barrel, and spends a moment huffing to unlatch the lid, which then swings aside to reveal a 3ft diameter tunnel within.

"This is you," he says, grimly, his suspicious eyes searching for any sign of trouble. "If ye return this way, the catch here will release the door," he illuminates a latch on the inside of the tunnel with his lamp. "See that you don't lead any Snorks to my cellar, else we're all done. And don't forget about my share in any loot that comes though here!"

With that, he clambers his way back up the stair, taking the lamp and the light with him. The cellar slowly returns to darkness as the barkeep recedes from view...

Boggs is a gnarled and mossy creature of tunnel, swamp, and gully. Decades of subterranean life have left him with stooped posture and an unusual gait: he tends to shuffle his feet and hold out his hands, keeping his eyes half-lidded to heighten his other senses.

"Boggs and Company at your service. We are in the business of treasure hunting, salvage, pest control, dungeon logistics, and safety. We aren't looking to throw our lives away for some cause or go out in a heroic blaze of glory. Our plan is to avoid hard fights, win easy fights, fill our sacks with treasure, and get out of the cattycombs alive. Am I right boys? I propose that my men march two abreast, sharing one torch between the six of them. I will stand farther back in the order and provide tactical leadership. Let's be smart, no unnecessary risks, and nobody has to get hurt."

All this time, Boggs has been caring for the cats Stephan and Elke, raising them to be expert mousers. They hiss and scratch at the fierce-looking men, but take an instant liking to Lemmi.

Mero frowns slightly at the 3ft diameter tunnel. He considers asking the dwarfs to scout it out as they would have an easier time of it, but considers the idea cowardly.

The fighting-man pulls his helmet from his pack and secures it snugly on his head, then heads into the tunnel on hands and knees.

Mero's armor and shield are still in his pack until he gets to the other side of the tunnel. He has only his helmet and spear as he crawls.

Lemmi grins at Boggs and tips her head in acknowledgement, but is soon distracted by Elke rubbing her chin against her leg. She squats to give the cat a pat and is rewarded by a gurgling purr.

"You keeps good company Mr Boggs", she observes, "An'I dare say this ones a right scrapper in a scuffle."

Darkness falls across the cellar. Who has a light?

Chiron lights his lantern and holds it high.

Are we ready to proceed?